Confessions Of A Hurt And Comfort Writer
by Traw
Summary: I have to catch my breath as images of Danny laying injured and bleeding on that hospital floor and Steve going nuts outside that room, willing to risk anything to save him, fill my head. A bit of parody fun. If you want to see the guys from the other side of a H/C writer's laptop, please keep reading...


My eyes dart frantically around the room as I search for an escape route but there are none. The door and windows have been locked and bolted. I shiver in fear and pull my laptop tighter, hugging it to my chest as I glance around at my other companions. They look as frightened and nervous as I feel as we raise our right hand and repeat the oath; I can feel myself choke on the words.

_I am a nice writer, _

_Not a mindless hurting machine._

_If I am to change this image,_

_I must first change myself._

_Danny is a man, not a victim!_

Hurriedly finding my seat, I hear Dr. Bishop thank us before asking who would like to speak first about our addictions. I bit my lip and stare ahead as I hear my companions shift nervously in their chairs and I can tell, without even looking, that they are looking at each other begging for someone else to begin. Slowly my hand rises, beyond my control and my mind screams 'No, you Fool!' as my lips speak the dreaded words, "I would like to speak first."

I cringe as the doctor smiles and nods and I hear the soft sighs of relief from the others in the room as I slowly rise, uncertain of what my traitorous mouth is about to say. I close my eyes and hug my laptop tighter, protectively drawing my most treasured possessions closer, my prized hurt and comfort stories as I begin. "I first become addicted to hurting Danny after reading some wonderful Hawaii Five O stories written by the two best Hawaii Five-O writers on the best Hawaii Five-O fan fic site on the net and watching that most memorable episode of King Of The Hill." I have to catch my breath as images of Danny laying injured and bleeding on that hospital floor and Steve going nuts outside that room, willing to risk anything to save him, fill my head.

"Go on..."

I growl in annoyance as the images are suddenly shattered into a million pieces as the doctor calls my name, and I quickly wipe the drool that has trickled down my chin with the back of my hand as I hold my laptop even tighter, ignoring the pain as it pressed into my chest as I continue. "That was the ... the start of my addiction." I admit tearfully, "I wanted to see and read more stories of Danny in pain. At first I tried the usual formulas... you know... I shot him... beat him and usually had him end up on a ventilator in the ICU while Doc had to tell the other guys that he had a chance if he lasted through the night. But it wasn't enough... the urge to hurt him got bigger... I needed to do more...I wanted to inflict pain...I needed to see more blood... to have Steve beg for Danny to forgive him, for not keeping him safe."

"Easy, easy. Remember to breath." Dr. Bishop says softly as she watches me closely, "In...out...in...and out."

But her words have no effect as I feel my excitement rise, "But it was never enough. So I have tried bear traps, had him unknowingly ingest drugs slipped to him in a drink, I have even tried giving him Anthrax. But it was never enough..." My eyes dart around the room as I see the others grinning before I turn back to the psychiatrist and admit, "I need more, so much more, it's just never enough... So I have made him receive the news of Steve's passing after they have fought and not spoken in months, I have even had him accused of selling drugs when he was unable to defend himself because at the time he was accused he was in cardiac arrest." My voice dropped guiltily as I shifted uneasily, and softly confessed my most dreadful sin, "I have even killed him off in one of my stories by Steve's own hand and made Steve relive the moment when he accidentally shot and killed Danny over and over again..."

I hear her gasp before she murmurs those words I dread. "You have a serious addiction but I think we can help you recover from it here, with our help and guidance."

"Oh God. NO...not that." It's too much and I can't stop myself dropping to the floor and curling up in a tight protective ball around those stories as I start to sob and scream my objections. "I DON'T WANT TO LOSE MY ADDICTION. I LOVE ALL THAT BLOOD AND ANGST! I LOVE IT WHEN DANNY SHAKES IN HIS BOOTS AND TRIES TO HIDE WHEN EVER I SIT DOWN WITH THE LAPTOP. PLEASE ... PLEASE ANYTHING BUT THAT!"

"Easy, easy. Remember that's what you are here for. To cure you of this addiction, so you can enjoy life." The petite psychiatrist tells me gently as she comes over and wipes away my tears. "I promise you that once we are done, that you will feel better." She reassures me as she helps me to my feet and back to my chair. She waits until I am settled before she straightens up and looks at the others and asks, "Okay, who is next?"


End file.
